CARING AND OVERSHARING
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: A wee!chester fic. Sammy seeks comfort from Dean after suffering from a nightmare. Dean gives that comfort in the way that only an awesome big brother can.


Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural. I'm just having a little bit of fun with these awesome characters.

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 **CARING AND OVERSHARING**

 **By: Vanessa Sgroi**

"Dean?" A small hand came out to clench and shake nine-year-old Dean Winchester's arm. There was a sniffle, then the soft little voice sounded again. "Deanie?"

Dean moaned sleepily before mumbling, "What, squirt? Whaddaya doin' up?" He cracked open one eye to look at his little brother. There was just enough moonlight streaming through the one, lone window to illuminate his tiny frame, draped in a too-big Batman T-shirt that belonged to Dean. The neck hole drooped to one side, baring a bony shoulder. In a pre-bedtime battle of wills, Sam had stubbornly refused to wear his regular pajamas to bed and Dean had eventually given in, tossing him the T-shirt in defeat.

"I had a b-bad dream." Sam paused to sniffle again and rub at his eyes beneath the shock of chestnut-colored hair that persistently flopped across his forehead. The rest of his unruly hair stood up at all different angles. "C-Can I come in?" Even as he spoke he was climbing onto Dean's bed, quickly working to burrow under the covers.

Dean rolled his eyes and scooted over to give his brother room. "Geez, make yourself at home," he growled affectionately.

The five-year-old sighed in contentment and snugged up against his big brother, feeling safe after his nightmare-fueled ordeal. "Thanks, Deanie."

"No problem, Sammy. Just don't hog the covers like you always do!" It was an ineffectual order at best, but Dean felt better for having pronounced it. After making sure Sam was settled, he rolled over and closed his eyes, eager to get back to sleep. Just as he was about to doze off, he felt a pair of ice cold feet press up against the back of his legs. He yelped!

The older boy quickly shifted away from this torment and sat up. "Holy crap, Sammy! Why are your feet so cold?"

"I dunno."

A sick knot formed in Dean's stomach. "You didn't go outside or something, did you?"

"No…course not. It's daaaark out there! I just got up and walked from my bed to yours. Like this." He made a walking motion with his index and middle fingers. "Then I stood and waited for you to wake up. But you didn't so I shook you."

"All right. Well, I think you need to put some socks on." Dean scooted around his little brother and got out of bed, heading for the small dresser he and Sam shared for their meager selection of clothes.

Sam slid out of bed and followed his brother. "Why do I need socks?"

"'Cause your feet are cold. It's like sleeping with two ice cubes." He pulled out a pair of Sammy's socks and turned around.

"Not THOSE socks!"

Dean eyed the pair of white socks he was holding. They were slightly misshapen and had a small hole in one toe, but other than that they looked fine. "What's wrong with 'em?"

"I wanna wear a pair of YOUR socks!"

"Mine? Why? They're too big for you. These'll work." He held them out to Sam who refused to take them.

"I wanna wear your socks!"

Dean recognized the mutinous look in his little brother's eyes. He had no idea why Sam was suddenly determined to wear his clothes. He sighed, returned Sam's socks to the drawer and grabbed a pair of his own. "What is this, 'Dress Like Dean' day or something?" He motioned for Sam to sit on the floor and helped him slip the socks on his feet. When they were done, he pulled Sam up.

Seeing his little brother in the large, droopy shirt and ridiculously slouchy socks, Dean grinned. "You know what, you look like a clown in that get up."

Sam sucked in a breath and his lower lip wobbled. "Not a clown. I don't wanna be a clown," he tremulously whispered.

It took a second for Dean to remember Sammy's fear of the wildly-garbed and garishly-painted entertainers. "Ahhh, was that what the nightmare was about, Sammy? Clowns?" He nudged Sam toward the bed. He absently grabbed Sam's pillow of his bed and brought it with him, crawling under the covers after his brother. "Tell me about it."

"Uh huh. Super mean clowns! Lots and lots of 'em. And these big, scary dogs with lots of teeth. And it smelled bad. And…and they were all laughing at me and poking me with sticks."

Dean felt a shudder course through Sam's small frame. He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and gave a squeeze. "It's okay, Sammy. It was just a bad dream. I won't let anything get you."

"'Cause you're an awesome big brother, right?"

"Right!" Dean smiled in the dark. This was an oft repeated exchange between the Winchester brothers.

They laid there in silence for a bit, long enough that Dean was just about convinced that Sam had fallen asleep when the younger boy abruptly and inexplicably giggled.

"What's so funny?" asked Dean.

"I tooted."

"You did? I don't smell anything…" It was then that the putrid odor reached Dean's nostrils. He waved a hand in front of his nose. "Oh, man! Sam, that's just…God…that's…that's nasty! Dude, you reek!" Dean puffed out his cheeks and made exaggerated gagging noises. "I think we need a haz-mat team!" His overly-dramatic posturing had the exact effect Dean had hoped it would. It made Sam giggle ever harder, his nightmare hopefully fading into the distance.

He waited for Sam's laughing to subside before saying, "Better watch out, Sammy, I'm gonna get you back for that one. You know what they say about paybacks…"

"What?"

"Paybacks are a bi—, I mean, paybacks are a bummer. You wait—some day when we're in the back of the Impala, when there's noooooooowhere for you to go. WHAM! It's gonna stink soooo bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad that even DAD will have to roll down the window!"

"That's pretty bad."

"I know, right?" Dean paused for a moment then laughed. "You know what we should do? We should BOTH do it and drive Dad crazy. Bad enough that he has to roll down both windows. Or maybe has to even pull over! We should plan on what to eat to get it that bad."

"Macaroni and cheese!"

"Nah. I don't think that would be bad enough. Maybe…sauerkraut?"

"Eww, yuck. No way!"

"Hmmm. Okay, no sauerkraut. How about…mmm…" Dean snapped his fingers. "I got it! Burritos! You know those ones that Dad buys us at those little stores. We can eat a bunch of those—that'll do it for sure."

"Okay."

"Cool. Burritos it is. Now we have a plan." Having planned an epic practical joke on their father, Dean smiled and closed his eyes. "Okay, runt, you better get to sleep."

"I'm not a runt! Someday I'm gonna be bigger than you!"

The absolute conviction in Sam's voice gave Dean pause. Then he snorted and shook his head. "Dream on, Sammy!"

 _ **FIN**_


End file.
